FEA: Training Hard
by Knight of the Void
Summary: Even the greatest of Heros had teachers. But when all those teachers die, how are you supposed to learn?


**Be Careful what you Wish For**

Panting, Owain slowly brought his sword up once more, the blade beside his shoulder and the tip pointed at his target. Placing his right leg behind him, he blinked the sweat away from his eyes and took a deep breath.

_'One more.'_ he thought. And with that, he dashed forward and leapt into the air.

"HYAH!" He yelled as he swung Missiletainn with all his might, cleaving his target in half and praying its insides everywhere.

Owain grinned widely at his results.

_'Yes! That was perfe-'_ his thought was interrupted when his left foot made contact with the ground again. Upon impact, his foot suddenly rolled to the side, sending Owain sprawling to the ground with a loud CRASH, his sword flying from his hand.

"Ow." he groaned, shakily standing up, rubbing his face and wincing at his newly sprained ankle.

"Your lucky your aunt Olivia wasn't here to see that. She be appalled by that footwork." came a voice from behind him. Owain nearly jumped out of his skin as he turned around.

Emerging from behind a tree stood his mother, Lissa, smiling at him while holding back a few giggles.

"O-oh, Mother." he stammered, his face starting to turn red from embarrassment, "What are you doing here?"

"I had noticed that you've always been disappearing off on your own, so I decided to see what it was you were up to."

Owain struggled to compose himself, standing tall and trying to hide how much his ankle stung.

"Yes, well, even the Realm's most legendary hero needs to make sure his skills stay as sharp as his blade. The Risen will never submit, and so neither must I."

Lissa looked past her son at the aftermath of his training.

"Well from the looks of things, despite your landing, those practice dummies never stood a chance."

Owain turned around as well. The clearing before was strewn with large sacks stuffed with straw, with bits of armor fastened to them. Many of them suffered from stab wounds or dismemberment, straw floating around in the slight breeze.

"You know it would probably be more efficient to train with something that can move?" Stated Lissa as Owain limped over to his sword to pick it up.

"I suppose it's just a habit of mine." Owain said, his voice aloof as he sheathed Missiletainn, "There weren't many myrmidons in the future, so I had to train mostly alone."

Lissa looked at him with a quizzical look.

"I'd wondered about that. Myrmidon isn't an Ylissian style of fighting. I never even knew they existed until I first visited Regna Ferox. Why would you try to be a myrmidon?"

Owain closed his eyes and gave a small smile, recalling his days before he came to the past.

"Being part of the Exalt bloodline, you would drag me all over the place to see new things. What I loved most of all were combat tournaments. I remember as a child seeing the cool, powerful stances of the Feroxi myrmidons and Chon'sin Swordmasters, and thinking how cool they were compared to the knights I would see on a daily basis. I wanted to be like them. Plus Inigo and Lucina had me beat as far as being a knight was concerned."

Owain's smile faded as he opened his eyes.

"Then the war happened, just as I was about to start combat training. Nearly all of the myrmidons and Swordmasters went off to battle and, like most of the world, were all but entirely wiped out. I wanted to make sure that their greatness would not be lost, so I took up the mantle of being a myrmidon. I would train with Ingio and Kjelle all the time but they didn't know how to train a myrmidon. All I had to go on were my memories of the tournaments."

Lissa blinked back the tears that began to form in her eyes.

"Oh, Owain." she choked. She threw her arms around her son and hugged him tightly. Owain looked down at his mother's head buried in his chest. Since he had traveled here from the future, the two were about the same age, and he was a full head taller than her. He awkwardly put a hand on her head.

"Mother, I'm fine. Really. I've grown used to this."

"But you shouldn't have had to." retorted Lissa, letting go of him , "I'm so proud of how strong you are." She wiped her eyes and smiled at him. Owain blushed and smiled back.

"Thanks, Mother. Listen, err, could we keep this between us?"

"Yeah, no problem."

* * *

**A Few Days Later**

Owain scraped his whetstone across Missiletainn's edge one final time before dipping it in a barrel of water and wiping it dry.

"And with that, we are primed for combat. A hero must always be ready for anything" he said to his blade, holding it up and admiring it before sliding it into its sheath.

With that done, began to head for the mess tent. Their camp was set up on the edge of a forrest near the Feroxi coast as they prepared their assault on the invading nation of Valm.

He hoped that it was Olivia or Cherche in charge if cooking today, while praying it wasn't Kjelle or Sully.

_'If all else fails, those two could just poison the Valmese.'_ he thought to himself with a chuckle.

Just as the mess tent came into view, Owain was suddenly surrounded in a brilliant white light.

"GAH!" he yelled as he was blinded by the light. When it faded, he found himself sour rounded by trees. He was in the forest near the camp.

"Hi Owain."

Owain spun around to see Lissa standing in front of him, a Rescue staff in her hands.

"Mother? What's going on? Why did you transport me here?"

The War Cleric giggled.

"Come with me. I've got a surprise for you."

With that, she lead Owain to a small clearing in the forest. Standing in the middle of it was a man. He was dressed in a long, blue, fur-lined Feroxi cloak that had little armor save for some arm guards and vambraces. On either side of his waist hung a Killing Edge, a curved sword renowned for being able to carve through flesh with ease. The man was standing completely still with his arms crossed and his eyes closed. It took a moment for Owain to recognize him. It was Lon'qu, the Feroxi Shepard and the future father of Owain's friend Laurent.

"It took some convincing, but Lon'qu has agreed to train you." Stated Lissa.

Owain looked, stunned, from his mother back to Lon'qu, who still hadn't moved. Owain hadn't seen much of the Feroxi man since he'd arrived from the future. When he knew him as a child, Lon'qu had been a man who was always smiling and took pride most in his family. But supposedly he had only been like that since Laurent was born. Owain had heard stories from his uncle Chrom about Lon'qu. How he was one of the greatest swordsmen he'd ever known. The stories also said that he was a very serious man when he had first joined the Shepards.

Owain looked back to his mother.

"Mother, I-"

"Oh, no need to thank me." Interrupted Lissa with a smile, "Have fun." And with that she ran off, leaving Owain behind.

Owain turned back to the Feroxi Swordmaster, who still hadn't moved.

"Umm, Hi there." he said, a little nervously.

Lon'qu's eyes finally opened, glaring straight at Owain causing the hair on the back of his neck to stand up.

"Greetings, Owain." came a highly feminine voice.

Owain eyes widened until he noticed a black clad woman sitting at the edge of the clearing. It was Miriel, the Firestorm Sage, Lon'qu's wife. She was sitting down on the forest floor staring at a book with a quill in hand.

"Oh. Hello there." Said Owain, "What are you here for?"

Miriel didn't look at him. Instead she scribbled something in the book with her quill.

"My purpose here is to gather data based on your performances over the coming sessions and determine your rate of improvement."

Owain tried to shake off the surprise of the whole event and return to his regular. He put on his trademark wry grin to his best effort.

"Oh, so you'll be recording by skills. Congratulations, then. You'll be the first to catalog the events of Owain, the Graceful Hero of Legends!"

It was just then that he noticed two objects on the ground next to Miriel. They were Recovery staves, two of the most powerful healing tools the Shepards currently had.

"Err, what are those for?"

"Hmm?" Miriel looked up from her book and looked at the staves. "Oh. These are for my secondary task. It is my duty to insure you don't die. I will also be recording how much blood you can lose before you pass out and how long you can survive before I am forced to use the staff"

"Wha- What?!" Owain stuttered, now breaking out in a cold sweat.

"If your skill with a blade is as good as your skill with your mouth, it may take a couple of hours before the first staff breaks." said Lon'qu finally, drawing one of his Killing Edge's.

"The Feroxi learn through experience and punishment. Those who aren't cut out for it fall by the wayside."

The Swordsmaster brought his sword up and stepped into his combat stance, and for a split instant, Owain thought he saw the corners of Lon'qu's mouth curl.

"Shall we begin?"


End file.
